Frozen Howls: Drift
by kataang21
Summary: Each year she aspires the winter. Each year she dreads the summer. Ever since she was a little girl, Katara felt drawn to the mysterious creatures that would appear in the woods; especially a certain yellow-eyed wolf that she, over time, began to call her friend. Based upon the "Shiver" trilogy. Zutara. Cover art by Mrs Pettyfer.
1. Chapter 1

******A/N: So sorry to all my Kataang followers. I PROMISE I HAVEN'T GONE ALL ZUTARIAN ON YOU and you can totally just ignore this :), but nevertheless this needed to be done and I hope everyone who enjoys this pairing will also LOVE this story ;)**

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**Katara • 15°F**

It was so cold that I could see my own breath fog as I exhale, but that was all I saw; aside from the mist and the whiteness of the snow, and their teeth digging deep into my skin, tearing me apart. I don't know why I didn't fight them, and why I didn't scream when I could have. I don't know why I didn't cry nor beg for them to stop, despite knowing that they would not understand. I just lay there completely still, awaiting death as I become prepared for it. All my fear faded into calm; all my unshed tears evaporated into peaceful thoughts of my upcoming slumber, and darkness began to take my mind. I felt disoriented and lost, and yet, I was still aware; wide awake and looking into the end. They shifted my body from one side to the other and I didn't resist.

I felt the frost and snow on my skin, and my fists clenched together in the impracticable task to keep my shivering body warm. I met his eyes; yellow and gold and hazel all at once, and I felt at peace again. I kept his stare, not wanting him to look away. He didn't. He looked at me for endless moments but he did not join the others in my slaughter; he seemed rather disturbed and sympathetic, as if he understood. He seemed unwilling to participate in killing me. I could not bring myself to understand him. It was too feelingly, too lucidly…too _human_. I rested my gaze on him still, as darkness and cold took over where warmth used to be and I felt myself falling. I silently begged him to catch me, to save me from the inevitable, but even if he could understand - even if I was able to tell him - he would not please my wishes. I began to reconcile myself with the truth - the truth in which I no longer existed - and then yellow eyes met blue - the sun: the warmth, met the ocean: the cold - and the heavy bodies were no longer pressing against mine; no longer was I unable to breathe. They seemed surprised - alarmed even - but they didn't protest. They let him come to me, to comfort me.

He placed his face near mine - his own still stained with my blood - and looked into my eyes as if he were telling me something. He stroked my cheek, my chest, my hair, my neck, leaving a bloody path on my skin, and once again, I was taken over by darkness and cold - this time to be awakened in the world of warmth and safety.

**Zuko • 15°F**

I watched as they tore the girl's body apart, eating her alive. I was unable to look away yet I could not keep my eyes on the scene before me; the bloody mess that was made of her tiny body. It was too cold for me to think, to feel anything but the cold; yet I felt sympathy and remorse and fear. I feared they would steal away her life and I would only watch as they did so. I feared she would not forgive me if I let that happen, but I remained silent still, unable to stop them and unwilling to join them.

As seconds began to stretch into seemingly endless minutes, and the cold started becoming unbearable for me, I started thinking about how she must feel. How does someone lie so still while they take away her life? I thought to confront the others, demand that they let her go. I wanted to shout at them that it wasn't right, but even if I was able to - even if the cold hadn't forestalled me from speaking - they would have had no savvy for me or for her. They would have probably said that what was necessary wasn't always right, but still I could not find a justification for their acts.

Not that I wanted to.

The cold was bitter and I felt myself shivering, my teeth collapsed together in the chatter. I could smell her - her odour was captured in my nose; the dirt that her skin was covered in, her tangled, messy hair, but mostly I smelled her blood. That was the scent that my animalistic drives kept searching for – that is what I yearned for, but I did not want to give in to my exigency - I did not want to bring her to her death, and I could no longer stand to watch them do it. I growled loudly and all the faces turned in the same direction. Recognizing the authoritative look in my eyes, they backed away from the girl and estranged from the disarray they had made of her. I approached her slowly, not wanting to frighten her more. She didn't respond and for a second I feared she was already dead.

But then I met her eyes; blue and so cold yet so warm and _alive_. She smelled alive, too. I forced myself to come closer. She didn't move. She kept her stare on me so I watched her as well. I was intrigued by the amount of her placidity. I put my face to hers, slowly, and pressed it against her cheek, her chest, her hair, her neck as if putting soft kisses where I knew it hurt. I was fascinated by her already, and I felt weird, to say the least, but even as I left her seemingly lifeless body, I kept her glassy gaze.

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_**FIVE YEARS LATER**_

**Katara • 38°F**

I was never one to believe in fortuitousness. I figured that everything happened for a reason – the reason of why things actually happened was beyond me. I couldn't apprise why certain things had happened in my childhood – memories that haunted my dreams, were yet the most beautiful lullabies. I still see him sometimes, always in the cold while the ground was covered in the deep snow and the temperatures were low and freezing. He was never here while it was warm. I couldn't grasp the pattern of it, but I kept watching, waiting, anticipating, until – each winter – he would return.

My yellow-eyed wolf.

He watched me; his eyes always containing something more, something that, I knew, was beyond the animal that he was, and he would come each time the snow fell upon Caldera City. He would watch from the edge of the forest. Watching, waiting, anticipating. He would never be the one to come; he would never leave the shelter that the woods provided. That task rested upon my shoulders. I would always step carefully towards him: one arm extended, one palm up, eyes lowered and hidden behind my thick lashes. I was always cautious – never too pushy yet never too acquiescent, either – and careful not to scare him away, but before I would near him completely, before I could even blink, he would disappear in the undergrowth and I would be left in the falling snow, alone yet again.

He would never come alone, though he seemed to be the only one paying any mind to me. The others were there simply to watch him, to warn him if he went too far, but that would never happen. Among all of them, I couldn't figure out which one was the leader. All of them, a whole pack of wolves, would near the edge of the forest, but they would only remain by the borderline, their thickly-furred features hidden in the tree's branchy shadows. One wolf, though, would always remain behind, as if hiding his presence. His fur was as white as the snow he lies on, his eyes were somewhat crocked and empty at most times, his dull and derelict body whispered of a diseased and a faded mind. Still, I would never see a connection in the seasons – in the warm and the cold – for they always remained wolves in my mind.

Only wolves.

…

"You know you're acting silly, right?" I laughed at my mother's expression. She stood behind the kitchen counter in all her usual beauty: her long brown hair braided and placed in a soft bun on the base of her head, her full lips were shifted in a deep frown, her cheek and neck, and a good part of the loose locks that managed their way out of the braid, were stained with paint. My mom was a painter who lived for such stains.

"No, Katara." Her voice was a little stricter than she intended, I suppose. "I don't want you near those woods anymore. You know very well what had happened," she warned.

Actually, I don't know exactly what happened. No one does. There were many guesses, but I believed none were true. The truth, however, was that the information found its way to our family gradually and at a very slow pace. My mother, though she spent most of her time at home painting, was not the biggest fan of news, especially bad ones, and she had done a fair job in avoiding and ignoring them. My father, as opposed to her, was not one to spend too much time in the house. He was more of an 'adventure-kind of guy' as he had put it, so he did not pay much attention to the news, either. My brother Sokka and I heard more than one theory in the school's hallways. There were actually so many theories that I lost count.

But one thing was for certain; Ty Lee Asai was dead and her body was yet to be found in the darkened frost of the woods. She was not the kind of girl I would normally associate with, to be honest. She was bratty and full of herself – as if she thought the entire world orbited around her. She was quite popular, though, but most people either envied her for her beauty or loathed her for her sassy attitude. Only after her death was the public opinion transformed into something unseen, and only after her death was she proclaimed a saint and was talked about with utmost respect and adoring.

Although the theories of her supposed death were many, each suppressing the others, one thing has spread among everyone and no one could deny that it was a problem any longer: fear of the wolves.

I, for one, have always found the wolves to be peaceful creatures. I had never thought of them as a threat to anyone, despite the fact that I had attested their wrath myself. My mother has always said that they are no threat to humans, in the years in which she had failed to remember my incident with them. At first she had claimed that my attack was only a one-time thing, that there was no way it would ever happen again, but the recent events have brought back to surface long-forgotten and unwanted memories - memories my family had buried too deep inside to remember.

"I'm serious, Katara," she said firmly. "Do not go near those woods again. Are we clear?" I nodded only to please her, inwardly thinking that there was no way she would keep me away from my wolf. My mother looked at the watch that was wound around her wrist and nodded to herself. "Alright, I have to go. I have a lunch appointment." She didn't even bother looking at me. She was too busy going through her purse. "Your father will be home late so don't wait up, okay?" I nodded once again, and let my mother place a kiss to my forehead.

She left through the front door, leaving a cold draft behind. I stood there, unable to comprehend that she would go out in such a disastrous state, and yet, I let it slide out of my mind and turned slowly to go upstairs into my room–the only place in the entire house where I had a little peace of mind. I could hear my brother's conversation from the other room, so I started searching for ways to tune it out. When all else failed, I returned into the quiet of the living room.

Looking outside the window, I saw the snow falling to the ground in thick flakes. I watched as it whirled around in the wind, until I could no longer concentrate on it. That's when I heard it: a loud _thump_.

Confused and, frankly, a little frightened, I neared the door slowly. I knew all too well that behind the glassy surface of the door there was freedom. The door led to the familiar path I had taken for years into the backyard overlooking the forest. That was where I felt most alive. It was also where I was almost killed some years ago. I pushed the door open with trembling hands, only half-aware of what I was doing, afraid of what I would discover.

I finally stepped outside into the cold, and I immediately wished I was someplace else – anywhere, for that matter. There, lying on my front porch was a boy I had never seen before. The falling snow was covering his naked body, but my eyes still met more than I wished for. I observed him carefully; half-expecting he would jump up and attack me. His back was wounded badly and, though I couldn't be certain, though I wanted to believe otherwise, it looked as though he was shot. All I was able to do was to release a sharp gasp, and then he lifted his head, slowly, and looked at me.

I met his eyes; yellow and gold and hazel all at once, so familiar and comforting yet so unknown. "Help me," he managed to breathe before drifting into unconsciousness.

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**A/N2: So that's that for the first chapter. If I get feedback on this story I'll probably update faster, but I'm working on my othr stories as well so if you wanna see more of this (and get to the Zutara ;)) favorite, follow and**

**review review review :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here is the second chapter :): Thank you all for the wonderful reviews :D now to anwser some of them:**

**leah: ****And here is your update :)**** Yes, Zuko is wolf. And the degrees represent the shifting; when it's cold Zuko and the other members of the pack change into wolves.  
**

**GUESTt1: the other charachters are all from the AtLA universe ^_^. I can't tell you that, it'll ruin the surprise ;)**

**realsoul123tuml: thank you, sweetie :D xoxo**

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**T****WO DAYS EARLIER****:**

_Katara __**• **__60°F_

I sat on my bed and looked through the window as my mother drove away. I blew my dark hair out of my eyes and rolled them at the sight before me. I couldn't believe that she was leaving. She hardly spent any time at home anymore. Although I knew both she and my father cared for me deeply they didn't really know how to show it. They were both pretty bad at showing their emotions what with never being around. On the rare occasions they were actually home my mother would mostly painting and my father would lock himself up in his office and do whatever it was he did there.

That was why, on this particular evening, while I was home alone – aside from my brother who was in his room, probably not even knowing whether I was here, nor caring about it – and was cooking dinner for myself, I heard the speaker on the radio mention Ty Lee's death. I couldn't stand to listen to it again – to listen to the rumors of her disappearance – yet I couldn't bring myself to turn off the radio. I listened carefully, concentrating on the reporter's words but not understanding what he was actually saying. It was all a blur to me – unclear noises and hissing in the background that I could not discern completely_. _

I could make out the words about as clearly as the foggy pictures of my attack. I was too distracted and pensive to notice that the tedious sound of the reporter's voice had turned into a soothing melody.

In the desperate attempt to clear my thoughts of the blood-stained images of Ty Lee's body sprawled somewhere deep in the woods where she would never be found, I walked over to the counter and turned the volume up.

The song was familiar so I tried to distract myself by singing along, but my mind kept drifting to the darkest of places. After about half hour, the doorbell rang.

"Hey." Suki's beautiful wide smile caught me off guard.

"What are you doing here?" I asked dumbfounded. Suki's features stiffened a bit and I suspected she was bringing bad news.

"What do you mean? Can't I just come over to say 'hi'?" She deliberately sounded insulted so, hoping to clear the water, I walked over to her and embraced her tightly.

"Of course you can," I said into her short hair. Suki's hair had always fascinated me greatly; it was light brown, though sometimes it looked a little reddish – Suki claimed it depended on her mood, but I knew it was just a trick of the light – and she didn't comb it very often so it was kind of spiky – each hair and loose end sticking out in another direction – yet somehow she would always manage to make that mess that stuck out on her head look admirable.

"I heard the news," She said as I wandered off into the kitchen. Suki spoke loudly, resulting in a shouting effect when close enough, but she followed me into the other room nonetheless. "They were talking about Ty Lee again." I knew well that Ty Lee's death had affected her much more than it had affected me. I was never really sure why, but Ty Lee and Suki were friends. Or so it seemed to me. I would sometimes see Suki talking to Ty Lee and they were both on the cheerleading squad, but as far as I knew, that was all there was, and I was never certain why I imagined them to be friends. I suppose they always seemed to be quite fond of each other.

"I know," I said distractedly. "I heard it, too."

"Why do you listen to those things, Katara?" Suki blurted out. "You know how much those news upset you."

I rolled my eyes at her. It was true; the news would always get to me. Sometimes I would even cry myself to sleep – and I didn't know if it was because I felt sorry for Ty Lee or because I feared for my wolf.

"Well, you know I can't really help but hear something. It's all everyone ever talks about these days," I said, a little dazed. "I can't exactly run away from it." I don't know why I tried to justify myself; it's not like I had a reason to.

"I suppose you're right." Suki released a heavy sigh. I was only faintly aware of her voice; all there was before my eyes were the wolves – my wolf; his golden lucid gaze was painted into my mind, the snow-white wolf who seemed to have an unsound mind, the black wild-eyed wolf that frightened me most of all – actually, that was the only wolf I feared; the others always looked so peaceful and calm. Then there was the dark brown wolf, always side by side with the black one, its face always so emotionless and tranquil, and all the others who were as peaceful and still as a wild animal could never be. I saw all of their furry faces before my eyes and I wondered: _Did they do it?_

I knew full well that some of them – such as the brown and black wolf, perhaps even the silver one – could be able to attack a human. I could clearly see them do it. It didn't look as unnatural as it did when I would try to picture my wolf in such a scenario.

"Hey, Katara." Suki snapped her fingers in front of my face. I blinked a few times until my eyes adjusted to the light; Suki was so close to my face that she looked like nothing more than a big smudge. I pushed her away gently. "Are you okay?" My friend looked a little concerned by this time.

I managed a small nod. "I'm fine."

Suki didn't seem convinced, but she didn't seem to care a lot, either. I supposed it was better that way.

"I gotta go now, okay?" she said, as if asking permission.

"Yeah. Okay," I said flatly. She blew me a kiss and waved goodbye.

"See you tomorrow."

I waved back, but she was already gone.

As soon as I was certain she wouldn't suddenly return – she often did that – I sprinted into the kitchen and looked into the fridge. In the freezer there was a large piece of meat. I wasn't sure what kind of meat it was, but I supposed it didn't really matter. I snatched it and closed the fridge door with my foot, already halfway across the room. Making sure Sokka was still in his room and wouldn't notice my absence, I quietly slid the side door open and swiftly squeezed myself through it. Once again I was in the cold snow; once again I was where I belonged. I could almost hear the trees, the leaves, the branches – the woods – calling me into the unknown, calling me home. I looked around, thoroughly mesmerized by the beauty of the falling snowflakes. I turned around and turned my head in the direction of the woods, and finally, I spotted him.

He was, as always, by the edge of the woods, hiding in the darkened corners, but still noticeable in the white plains. I pulled out the piece of meat I had brought him and extended my arm, not really hoping he would come. But he came. He came closer a couple of steps and then he stopped. He looked at me with those eyes of his and I thought he was eying the meat, waiting for the moment in which I would drop it. But I realized he was looking at _me. _I stood there in the falling snow, awaiting – dreading – the moment when he would leave. Only he didn't leave. He came forward a few more steps – closer than he ever came before, and I could only stare at him in disbelief. He walked slowly, cautiously even, until he stood only a few inches away from me. He was so close now that I could have reached forward and pet him on the back, if only I wasn't so afraid of scaring him away. I observed him; he didn't look too different than any other time, but somehow this time he _was _different.

_The blood,_ I thought anxiously. I really hoped that the fresh blood on his muzzle was his, a scar that he earned in a fight or simply a scratch that he incurred upon himself.

"Did you do it?" I whisper, surprised that he didn't run away at the sound of my trembling voice. "Did you kill her?" I repeat, as though he could actually understand me. I was still holding his meat in my bare hands and my ungloved fingers felt frozen. He looked at me – _really looked at me, _his glance more lucid and present than ever – and then, for the first time in a lifetime, he closed his eyes. I was completely taken aback with the sight of his piercing eyes closed. It was the most disturbing sight I had ever witnessed; so sad and still and seemingly untroubled, yet so vexed and deplorable. It hurt me to look at him like this. Without hesitation – without a thought put into it – I reached out and did what I had always dreamed of doing – I touched his shiny coat, and when he didn't flinch, I buried my hands into the back of his neck, afraid only of scaring him away.

I had often imagined his fur to be soft and smooth, but I suppose I should have known better. Although there was certain softness to him, his fur was rough and coarse beneath my fingers. He was warm but dirty and much wilder from up close. Still I didn't fear him. Comfort and felicity washed over me as he placed his head next to mine and nuzzled closer to me. My face was now buried in his thick fur and I felt as though I really knew him. As peaceful as the moment was, I almost screamed in terror when I heard a loud growl come from the wolf's throat. But as I looked over the barrier that his large body was making, I saw the dark brown wolf. I had realized some years ago the she was a female. He was growling at her.

She stood at the edge of the woods, watching me, a fierce look of ardor in her eyes. It made me feel as though she thought I had intruded in her territory. My wolf got up to his feet and placed his body before me, preventing the brown wolf from coming to me. But she stepped forward still, and I felt myself being pushed in the opposite direction. My wolf was walking backwards, pushing me back to the safety of the front porch. I found the first step with my foot and retreated further away. They both looked at me, as if to say they knew something I didn't, and waited for me to enter the house. Once I was inside I locked the door, but remained by the glass to see what would happen.

The brown wolf jumped forward and snatched the piece of meat I had dropped to the ground; then disappeared into the woods like a ghost. Once she was out of sight, it was as if she was never here – as if she had never stolen the moment of bonding with my wolf.

He stepped to the trees also, lingering in the shadows, searching my gaze for the last time before disappearing as well. Once he was out of sight, the distance between us seemed immense. And my words – those that I have spoken unknowingly, mistaking his cognizance for something it could never be – echoed through my mind over and over again:

_Did you kill her?_

**...**

_Zuko__**• **__60°F_

My breath came in short cold gasps and appeared in foggy clouds before my eyes.

I couldn't remember ever running so fast. I couldn't remember the last time I was this afraid – not only for myself, but for all of us. It was almost impossible for me to recognize their steps while all at the same they were everywhere around me, and their deadly grasp was inevitable. The leaves that were buried underneath the snow crunched beneath my feet. I cocked my ears and listened, but there was nothing there. A howl echoed through the skeleton trees as a gunshot sounded in my ears.

After a moment of dead silence, there was another howl…and another. But there were no other gunshots. I joined the mournful howling as I realized that one of our own had probably been killed. The wolves increased their voices – each filled with grief and loss. I tried hard to tell apart the howls – the voices – hoping to realize who it was that died. Fear and reality struck me all at once as I became aware that I was sitting in the snow. I stood up, and with one last call to my family I sped up my pace and disappeared among the trees.

As I ran to safety – to nowhere – my mind was overwhelmed with grief over the recent loss. _Who was it? _The oddments of my human mind wondered. _Was it Azula? Or Mai? Or Iroh?_ I was too afraid to think of the others, so, in the pointless attempt to chase those thoughts away I shook my head furiously. _I'll deal with it later._

I ran from one whitened edge of the forest to the other, but there was nothing; there was no one. As I looked around, I realized that everything was missing – the hunters, the wolves, the sounds, the _life. _I was left in the middle of nowhere – incapable of returning and unwilling to leave my family, my life, and, worst of all, I was completely alone. The unnatural silence fell upon the ground once more; I couldn't remember the last time I was this alone. I couldn't remember ever being this afraid.

As I began to adjust to my unsettling thoughts, another gunshot filled the air – another dying cry escaped an unfortunate soul. The grief-filled voices once again echoed through my mind before I collapsed into the darkness.

…

I stumbled and shivered as I fought to keep myself awake and on the run. The flagrant stabbing pang in my back quickly drained my strength and I wasn't sure how much longer I would be able to withstand it before losing consciousness.

_I just have to make it out of the woods, _I thought bitterly. My teeth clenched together, my breath came out in heavy pants, my whole body was sweaty and I was beginning to get frostbites because I was standing completely naked in the snow. My black hair was wet and drops of sweat were dripping down my face. My face was distorted into a grimace of pain and disgust; my tongue twisted in abhorrence with the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. It was beyond me how I had managed to escape my animal form and the hunters that had injured me. I limped aimlessly, vainly trying to escape death. I kept going forward, not fully aware of where I was going – but it was a path I had taken countless times before.

Somehow it all felt oddly familiar, as if I had seen it already in a faraway dream. But the thought of it being just a memory rapidly melted into reality as I spotted an all too familiar house in the landscape at the edge of the woods. My sight was lackluster and surrounded by thick, non-existent shadows, but I forced myself ahead nonetheless, guided by my trembling feet over the snowy impediments. I stumbled uncertainly through the snow until I reached the wooden porch – the familiarity of these scents was utterly consoling. Upon raising my foot and making first contact with the surface of the porch, I collapsed and suddenly found myself sprawled across it.

The cold suddenly became more bitter and harsh, and thoughts of how much longer I would live filled my darkened mind. Silent tears began to slip through my eyes as I said goodbye to all those I would never see again, and I heard the most beautiful sound in the world – the glass door I had come to know so well slid open. I pushed my head up and slowly, with the last ounce of my weakened strength I managed a whisper:

"Help me." Then all else disappeared as the last rays of sunlight faded before my eyes.

…

_Katara • 60°F_

All I was able to do was to stare at the boy before me. There was nothing in my mind but a complete dryness of thoughts. My instincts were screaming to help him out of the snow – he would freeze to death if I didn't react soon – while, at the same time, fear and rationality whispered that I should let him go, leave while I still have a chance. As always I was overwhelmed with curiosity. _Who is this boy? What happened to him?_

Finally, I decided to picked him up – he was really heavy, so we stumbled a lot, and I almost dropped him several times - and led him up the stairs to my room, all the while listening for any sound or sign that my brother would come. It was beyond stupid, but, driven by reasons I couldn't really understand, I didn't want Sokka to know about the boy's presence in the house. I knew it was stupid of me not to call for help, being completely aware that I am risking a stranger's life, but something about him was so mysterious and _forbidden, _yet, despite it, he was familiar and somewhat comforting.

I gently laid his shivering body onto my bed and ran into the bathroom to get clean towels. First I looked at the wound on his back – just like my grandmother had taught me: always check to see what you're dealing with. The wound was deep, and it looked like it could easily get infected. I took a trembling breath through my teeth and placed a soaked towel over the wound, gently stroking against the surface. He didn't even flinch, and I wondered if he was still conscious. After cleaning the wound I gently turned him to his back to check for other injuries. His chest was covered in scratches and bruises, but they all looked older. As I observed the strange boy, I couldn't help but notice how lean and muscular his chest and arms were. His wide shoulders occupied a good part of my tiny bed. Among all the bruised and beaten muscles I also, unwittingly, noticed his fully nude body. He was completely naked before me, and as I realized so a furious blush made my face flush. I grabbed the blanket from my dresser and spread it to cover him up. But my eyes w ere quicker than my hands and so they swiftly flustered downward before I managed to enshroud his private parts.

I turned my head in hope to chase away the embarrassing thoughts. It wasn't long before I heard a soft whimper and I turned to the boy lying on my bed. I found myself facing his wide open eyes – the eyes I had dreamed of, the eyes I had seen a million times before. He didn't move nor say anything, so I stepped forward and sat on the bed insecurely only to be pushed back up by my unsteady feet seconds later.

I managed a small smile. "You're awake," I said. "How are you feeling?" His piercing gaze was distracted and distant, disoriented.

"I… What happened?" He asked. All I could manage was a shrug.

"I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me."

He flinched with pain. Seeing him like that pained me, as well. I all but jumped on him when I noticed his posture.

"Maybe we should get you to a hospital," I suggested, trying to reason with both him and myself. But at the sound of my voice his eyes shot open and his head flew up.

"No!" he exclaimed, and then blushed. "I don't need to go to the hospital. I'm fine," he added quickly. I raised a confused brow at the nameless boy.

"But you're hurt," I argued, crossing my arms. "You need to get help."

"You can help me." The pleading look in his eyes was too much; I looked away. How do you respond to this?

"Will you help me, Katara?" He tipped his head toward me and I let my eyes find his.

"How do you know my name?" I demanded, suddenly uneasy about the stranger before me. It was now his turn to blush.

"I…what?"

"How do you know my name?" I repeated irritably.

"What?" he repeated bluntly. Then, seeing no point in lying to me, he sighed heavily. "I've known you for a very long time, actually. And I know this sounds crazy because you don't know me, but it's… it's complicated." he breathed, though by the end his voice was lithe, free, as if he had relieved a burden he'd been carrying for a long time.

In all honesty, I didn't find his answer _completely _crazy, for I felt as though I knew him too. He looked up at me – _really _looked at me for the first time, as if he'd been hiding something – and I could see shame and grief twirling around in the depths of his eyes. I noticed it, and I knew why he'd been hiding his face – the large red scar that took up almost half of his face, stretching from the base of his eye all the way to his ear was something he was probably ashamed of. I fought the urge to ask him where he had gotten it.

"Well, at least tell me your name, then." I sighed in defeat, no longer caring for the fact he knew who I was while I knew nothing of him. I didn't hear what he said – assuming he said anything – for in the next second I was already lost in deep thought.

…

_Now that he was this close, I could clearly see all of him. I met his eyes; they were wide and showered in gold, and frightening, and consoling. I wondered how something can be so beautiful yet so awful, so known yet so alien at the same time. And I saw it – a big, almost faded scar on the left side of his face, hidden beneath his fluff. I had never noticed it before – he was never this close, after all – and now that I had, it felt as though it had always been a part of him, as though I had always known it was there and I accepted that part of my wolf completely._

…

"It's Zuko," he said as I shifted my eyes to look at him. His expression was one of familiar kindness and fastness. Still his eyes were distant and hollow. It was then that I realized, though it took some time for the thought to settle into my mind, that those golden-bathed eyes were indeed ones I had seen before. I couldn't grasp the notion of my mind being so distorted as to lead me to such a conclusion.

My thoughts, my mind, my composure – they were all out of my control at this point, each swirling around in my head into yet unexplored directions, each of which lead to a more disturbing inference than the other.

_Zuko. _I wondered – perhaps silently, though it felt like I had screamed it aloud – if it was true.

_Could he be my yellow-eyed wolf?_

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